fatty. no good for you.

30Mar/122

“I’ve been too honest with myself…

I should have lied like everybody else." - Manic Street Preachers, "Faster"

This has been one of my favorite lyrics of all time.

These last several months have affected me considerably, though.  I was heavily inspired by my good friend to create this blog based on what I saw her writing about and what the response to her was.  She's brutally honest, if not graphic, about who she is, what she endures, and what makes her awesome.

Most everything that's wrong in my life can be attributed to issues about honesty.  One of the many reasons I started this blog was for me to take a look at myself, what I wanted out of life, and the path to get there.  Did I want to be in another committed relationship, or did I want the freedom to fuck everything life would allow for?  Did I want to be healthy, or was I aiming for unrealistic goals of recreating my youth via aggressive weight loss?  Did I even know what I wanted, or was everything just a function of what feels good at a given moment?

I still don't wholly know the answers to this.

What I do know is that I've moved very, very aggressively in a new relationship.  The amazing woman I spoke of 3 weeks ago is my girlfriend, and I've been staying with her most nights - including every night since Monday.  I have a situation in which my ex-wife lives here and hates how loud we fuck.  My girlfriend's situation is owning a house that is almost uninhabitable due to water damage.  So, naturally, we're both staying at someone's house from her church who is headed to Afghanistan to help with that clusterfuck.

Here's the thing: I'm mostly happy with this.  She's pretty amazing.  I basically consider her "out of my league", but there's enough things she likes about me that I can rationalize this to be alright.  We're still trying to overcome the age gap - which is 8.5 years.  She's used to dating older men; I'm definitely not used to significantly younger women.  Most everything else makes sense, and she is really, really happy with me.  I see it in her eyes, her smile, and I think her ass even perks up when I look at it.  I'm happy with her.  She is aware of any significant shortcoming I have and assures me it's not an issue.

I can admit sometimes I don't know I want something until I see it.  It's like that impulse buy of Reese's peanut butter cups that you just suddenly think "HOLY FUCK THAT SOUNDS FUCKING AMAZING" at its sight.  I knew the moment I saw her that I wanted her to be mine.  After spending time with her, I never wanted her to leave my side.  The next steps are a bit unclear - but I am happy.  What I need to be sure of next is that I'm ready for this happiness now without losing sight of the big goals.

Getting back to the original Manic Street Preachers quote...I'm starting to hate it.  For a very long time, I pushed the boundaries of who I was and what I could do - and not without both significant failures and relevant successes.  I know who I am now, and knowing myself gives me a pretty unique insight into what it takes to improve the parts of my life I'd like to.  I can't do that without honesty.  I've come to understand that being honest about yourself makes it easier to be honest with others.  I can say I'm 270 lbs, but in the same breath, I can say I'm down nearly 40 lbs since the middle of last year.  Both those clauses are true, and whatever someone chooses to take from it is up to them.

That said, the scale at the home I'm staying at has me at 264, but I think it's fucked.  I'll get a real weight when I have time.

14Mar/121

I posted this on Facebook. I’m sharing it here too.

I totally get the idea that female lawmakers are introducing bills to limit Viagra access to give men a taste of how irresponsible it is for us to pretend we know what's best for women and limit their access to birth control and abortion.

I don't like that it's not really the same thing, though. Viagra, while it does offer other benefits beyond its common use, isn't as commonly used for the "off-label" benefits as birth control. I'm not even going to attempt to draw any comparison between abortion and Viagra, because I'm completely lost on that one.

The fact is guys don't get women's issues. We can't empathize, we never will. I don't really expect a woman to understand the miracle of an erection, but if it's there, and we say "let's do it", then we know they appreciate it. All we as men can do is let women tell us what's important to them, and act accordingly. It's not our place to second-guess their conclusion.

This brings us back to 2/16 and the Congressional hearing featuring all men who were there to talk about birth control. What the fuck do we know or understand on the topic? One thing I did pick up in high school having an irresponsibly great understanding of parliamentary procedure  is that any good legislative process has to consider the rights of the majority, the minority, individuals, the absent, and group as a whole. We could not do that without the presence of women in that hearing.

The fact that this was allowed to occur is the reason we have this ridiculous bickering back and forth now, and we're fully prepared to set gender relations in this nation back 50 years if we keep this up. Please, show respect, and don't let this happen.

Filed under: Life, Sex 1 Comment
9Mar/123

This is the second best I could do…

I was going to prepare a much nicer, epic, and emotional post about the biggest and scariest thing I've gone through in recent years.  I chose not to in favor of a little bit of a look into how big an asshole I really am.

I'm obese.  Not overweight, but cheese-in-my-veins fucking obese.  My weight is down a little bit (it's hanging in the low 270s) - but I'm still 100 lbs. away.

...and I don't deal well with fat chicks.

I should put an asterisk there, because it's sort of an arbitrary term that is a challenge to express properly.

Historically, girls of marginal attractiveness have been drawn to me.  Now, I'm open to several different body types, races, hair colors, and the like.  I really only have one 2 total non-starters: Ridiculously fake breasts or a penis.  Both are immediate disqualifiers for me.

I started a match.com account up last week early Monday morning.  Since I'm me, and I am criminally tactful, I've had three dates - the last of which was last night.  That's 12 calendar days by my count.  I've had a deluge of "winks", but they are without fail girls that I couldn't see myself with.  Mostly because I don't think we could both fit in the same picture.  Not everyone is going to be a potential connection, but I don't understand the common underlying feature that nearly all the women who would approach me share: a disproportionally large bottom half that recalls images of a sausage casing overflow or that pink goo McDonald's called chicken.

The first girl...did not match up well against her photo, and was very bottom heavy.  She was also at an age that gravity had taken a lot from her.  It was also unclear how well she maintained other parts of herself, as she had more than a few stray grey hairs on her head.  However, I proved that I can do just as much damage stone sober as I can drunk.  She asked me to set up Netflix Instant on her Wii.  I spent fewer than 15 minutes setting up her wireless network, and getting her Wii configured for Netflix.  I should have left when I finished.  I'll let you fill in the blanks...but I was irresponsible in accepting her gratitude.  Moving on...

The second girl I went on a date with decided we'd go to a burger bar.  Normally, I do OK in the context of similar establishments.  Not to endorse a restaurant, but Red Robin allows substitutions of the BOCA burger on all their burgers, and they have a really awesome spicy burger that is just amazing.  This place was not even remotely vegetarian friendly, and they still botched my order just a touch.  Poor dining choices aside, this girl happened to be a bit more pretty, younger, and had let me know she lost a lot of weight in recent months.  Good on her, seriously!  However, she too suffered from that ill-defined bottom-heavy build that just...doesn't do well for me.  To frame it a little differently, her top half had similarities to Adele - great face, bone structure, fairly dramatic eyes and lips.  I adore Adele, and would be more than happy to be involved with her.  However, this young lady's bottom half was more like a Dell computer - a collection of spare parts, poorly organized, probably incompatible, and destine to be useless in about 3 years.

I maintained a facade of interest, thinking it best to "keep options open" since I haven't been able to demonstrate how much of an absolute catch I am to anyone in years.  And then last night happened...

I met an amazing woman a few years younger than me.  She happens to be quite intelligent, a vegetarian, and every bit as ridiculous as me.  She's also absolutely stunning.  Our date lasted over 10 hours, of which 95% was talking.  As far as I can gather, any and all perceived chemistry was mutual - but I'm not going to get into specifics yet.  I've had about a half dozen significant relationships, so it does happen that I get a fair amount of what I want.  However, given the delicate balancing act that is the first few weeks of dating, I'm keeping feelings and word selections metered right now.  It was an incredible time, and we've planned to go out tomorrow night.

I'm a jerk.  I'm clearly saying terrible things about people who I hope never hear them, as they surely deserve better.  Attraction is something that really can't be helped.  I'm not sure how much of it can be conditioned or massaged.  However, I feel compelled to be honest about what I'm thinking and feeling, as it becomes a written record for me to better understand myself.  This year is about being honest with myself, who I am, and what I want.  It is not a time for compromise on any level.  It's a time to reassert who I am and what really matters to me.

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